


Oxeye Daisy (patience)

by S_Horne



Series: August in Bloom [18]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Steve Rogers is a saint, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: “You make me want things I can’t have.”Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.





	Oxeye Daisy (patience)

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

Finally, Steve broke the silence. His back was ramrod straight and he didn’t give anything away in his tone, flat to the end.

“What things do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Tony said and sighed. “Don’t do this, not now. Don’t make _me_ do this.”

The defeat in Tony’s voice made Steve pause and he bit back any snappy response that was threatening to rise. “Yes,” he said instead, voice unwaveringly level once more as he kept his gaze on Tony’s, “okay. I do know what you want. And who says that you can’t have them?”

Tony didn’t give a verbal response. Instead, his mouth fell open ever so slightly and he seemed lost for words. It was an unusual sight, but it wasn’t one that Steve felt like admiring. Though many might have counted it as such, it didn’t feel like a victory for Steve. He’d never wanted to make Tony so unconfident, so insecure in his own emotions.

Instead of adding more pressure, Steve turned back to the sink and away from Tony. Grabbing the tea towel lying on the counter, Steve began to wipe down his hands, carefully brushing away the soap suds still clinging to his skin from the washing up.

“I’m not saying you can’t,” he said, throwing the towel somewhere to his left when his hands were dry. He didn’t turn back around, choosing instead to focus on a single wine glass standing in the drying rack, where a small bead of water was dripping down and down and down the smooth lines until it finally fell. It hit the drainage board and broke, its perfect shape melting into a weird and displeasing puddle.

“Well, you’re not saying I can,” Tony muttered under his breath.

Steve closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He knew it was harder for Tony than it was for most other people to admit their feelings to themselves, never mind to anybody else. It wasn’t in the Stark DNA to be open and available for anything real and Steve had always promised that he would never push. He would let Tony find his own way, figure out how to follow his own path and learn how to love on his own terms.

It was just that some days were a little trickier than others to sit back and not say anything.

“Maybe you’re just not listening,” Steve said, purposefully keeping his tone as light as he could. If he tried to pretend that things were okay, then maybe Tony wouldn’t be trying to back out of the kitchen as though his life depended on it.

Steve looked over at Tony quickly and Tony froze like a deer in the headlights, his back practically one with the doorframe as he stared at Steve.

“Steve,” he said, voice cracking even on the short word, “you don’t mean this.”

“How do you know?” Steve asked. Anger was starting to build and he desperately willed it down. It wasn’t the time or the place to be getting cross. Tony needed calm, he needed care.

But, equally, Steve was done sitting back and not letting himself get what he wanted.

“You sought me out, didn’t you?” he asked, holding Tony’s gaze and leaning back against the counter. “To do what? To question me? You started this, Tony, because you wanted answers. So please, _please_, listen to those. Stop questioning what I say and trust me.”

There was another beat of silence.

“You don’t want what I want.”

“Says who?” Steve took a careful step forward and, to his credit, Tony only flinched the smallest amount. He made no move to step even further away, though his fists did clench, knuckles turning white.

“You.”

“I never said no, Tony.” Steve’s voice was gentle as he held Tony’s gaze. 

“You never said yes,” Tony said, clearly not wanting to admit defeat.

Despite the situation, Steve’s lips quirked into a small grin. “Well, maybe you never asked the right question.”

Steve held his breath as he watched Tony steel himself, setting his jaw and lifting his chin.

“And,” he started boldly, defiance clear in his tone with only the smallest hint of a wobble, “if I did ask the right question?”

Steve held his hand out to Tony. Without moving any other part of his body, he stood there, hand outstretched.

Time passed in silence, but Steve didn’t waver. He didn’t shake, didn’t wobble, didn’t move. He just stood with his hand stretched out to Tony, fingers spread invitingly and nothing but warmth on his face.

Finally, after what had seemed like hours and yet seconds all at once, Tony’s hand crept out. Fingertips touching shouldn’t have been monumental, and yet Steve felt as though his heart had never been fuller.

He twisted his fingers with Tony’s and squeezed. “Then I’d answer,” he said, slowly and clearly, “I’d answer in every language under the sun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yesterday was a funny old day. If you're reading this in real time, then I do hope you'll forgive me being late.


End file.
